


Cut Off My Own Wings, And Throw Myself Through The Gates

by SpookyKing



Category: Bandom, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Angels & Demons, Angel Wings, Angels, Angst, Blood and Gore, Drug Use, Forbidden Love, Multi, Recreational Drug Use, Religious Content, Religious Guilt, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-16
Updated: 2020-08-12
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:41:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25295611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpookyKing/pseuds/SpookyKing
Summary: "Frank reasoned, if he was not allowed to be with his love how could this be the paradise He intended for humans or angels?This could not possibly be what He intended. He was merciful, He was good, He wanted to bring eternal joy and love. So why was it so wrong for Frank to look at Gerard and feel what he felt?"It's an angel au, enjoy!!!
Relationships: Frank Iero/Gerard Way, Ray Toro/Mikey Way
Comments: 7
Kudos: 23





	1. Paradise Is Where The Sun Sets

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, this is gonna be one of my attempts at a longform fic. No clue how long it will be, but i have really ambitious plans for this one and I'm super passionate. Also thanks to my bud @dilf-frank on tumblr for beta reading for me and listening to me ramble about my ideas ur a champ.

“Frankie, Frankie, wake up. Darling, you have to wake up.”

Frank peeled open his eyes. It was always so bright. The sun never set, always perfectly high in the sky. 

“Gee?”

“You know we can’t be seen together.”

“I know.”

The sheets of the bed were soft, too soft. Silky, smooth, curling under his fingers. He lifted himself up, the light through the window pierced his eyes. So bright.

“I don’t want to leave though,” Frank turned to Gerard. 

In Frank's mind, he knew they quite literally lived in a paradise. Place of eternal light, eternal joy, a utopia of many kinds. It never felt like that.

“If they find you know what they will do. I can’t bear to see that happen to you too.”

Gerards voice carried into the empty bedroom. Marble floors, with pillars holding up the rotunda of the ceiling. Stained glass windows carrying images long worn to the sands of time. 

“If it meant I could be with you, I would cut off my own wings and throw myself through the gates.” 

“I won’t let you.”

Of course, that’s what Gerard always said. Every time Frank proposed they cut off their own wings, throw themselves through the gates hand in hand. He took the pragmatic approach. They had jobs, humans to pull from sin and into the light. 

But how, could this be the paradise they were dragging humans into? 

Oppressively clean, sterile. Oh so, bright, blinding. It was all too much. 

And they couldn’t even love. 

Frank reasoned, if he was not allowed to be with his love how could this be the paradise He intended for humans or angels? 

This could not possibly be what He intended. He was merciful, He was good, He wanted to bring eternal joy and love. So why was it so wrong for Frank to look at Gerard and feel what he felt?

“Just go, Frankie. Don’t make this harder than it has to be.”

Gerard made his way to the window, staring out into the blinding light. It shimmered off the halo, floating atop black hair. 

“I love you.” Frank called into the bedroom as he stepped through the door. He didn’t get a response back.

~~~

Blood dripped from Frank's back, down his spine like cold fingers. Tracing the vertebrae and dripping to the floor with sickeningly loud smacks. Crimson red, staining pristine white marble. A piece of him had been ripped out, a chunk of his entire being. His identity was carved away and thrown into the abyss. Each of his wings lay to his sides. The shattered pieces of his halo, cradled in his hands. The last few pieces of who he used to be. 

“Noble of you to take the fall for him. He didn’t deserve it. He is corrupt in his blood. He tempted you into sin.”

“He did nothing wrong. It was me. I deserve this.”

Frank's voice came out shaky with sobs. He knelt at the throne, refusing to look up at the figure on it. 

“Brand him.”

Another angel came to him. Her eyes gave him a look of pity as she drove the crucifix into his neck. It hurt, it burned. He felt it, and it was a blessing. To feel the burn, the mark that would forever be on him. The gaping wounds on his back, the ring of blood around his head. To feel intense pain, for the first time, why had such an experience been kept from him?

“As punishment for your sin, for tempting one of our most vulnerable into the hands of lust. You will be cast down. Last statements?”

His voice boomed in Frank's ears, he lifted his head. Gerard. Standing in the crowd, restrained by two other angels. He was crying. 

Frank stood, two angels immediately restrained his arms. 

“Fuck you.”

Frank was escorted from the throne room, through the halls of the palace. Onlookers gaped, mothers covered their children's eyes. He dripped blood onto the marble floors the whole way out the front doors. To the gates. 

They pushed him through, and he fell. For what seemed like hours, he was falling. Through clouds and miles of sky. He saw the light grow farther and farther away, but never dim. Just dwindle, until it was a pinprick in a sterling blue sky. 

His back hit the dirt, and he blacked out. Letting his head lay in the grass. 

~~~

“Dude, dude. Are you okay?”

The voice pierced Franks consciousness. He was dizzy, his mouth dry, his head pounding, a noticeable ache in his back.

“Hey, help me get him up. I think he got fuckin jumped or something.”

The voice came again, and Frank felt arms on his shoulders. Lifting him up.

“You really think I could lift this guy? He’s like twice my size.” Another voice. 

“You could at least help, asshole.”

Frank opened his eyes, the first thing he noticed was a massive amount of curly hair. It framed the man's face, like a halo. He had a wide nose, large lips, and gentle eyes. 

“Hey, dude. You alright?”

“Yeah, I’m uh. I’m fine.”

Frank's voice came out harsher than he expected. His throat scratched. 

“Why the fuck are you passed out in a park? You’re lucky you weren’t eaten by raccoons or something.”

The other man, he had thin straight hair swept over his eyes, spoke.

Frank couldn’t tell them. His eyes darting around the surrounding trees and bushes while he spun an answer in his head.

“I can’t really remember.”

Amnesia excuse, really smooth Frank. But it was all he could come up with.

“I’m Ray by the way. This is Mikey.” The man with curly hair, Ray, said. He stood up and offered Frank a hand.

Frank took it, pulling himself off the ground and realizing how weak his legs were. He fell over into Ray's side.

“I’m uh, I’m Frank.”

“Cool, Frank. Do you have like, anywhere to go? Your phone on you?”

“Uh, no not really. I don’t remember anything.”

“Were you hit in the head or something? You don’t remember anything?”

Ray and Mikey looked at each other, they seemed to be communicating in some telepathic language Frank couldn’t tap into.

“Mikes, why don’t we just bring him home?”

“Okay so the smoke sesh is off then?”

“Yeah I really don’t feel like it anymore.”

“So I brought everything out here for nothing?”

Frank looked between the two, they continued to bounce off of eachother on the way to the car. Light bickering mixed in with giggles. It brought a smile to Franks face to watch. 

With Frank in the backseat of the car, Mikey spun around in the passengers seat to grill him with questions.

“So you really don’t remember anything? Like at all?”

“Nothing before I passed out.”

“So like, no family, no childhood.”

“Nothing.”

“That’s fucking crazy man…”

Mikey's eyes traveled to his neck, he gasped when he saw the black mark the crucifix had left. 

“What are you staring at?”

Frank put his hand over the mark. It was a light brown, muddied, excusable as a birth mark. But notably a crucifix. Marking him forever as fallen.

“Nothing...I’ll leave you alone now.”

Mikey turned in the seat, staring out the window for the rest of the ride.

Frank looked up into the sky. He couldn’t see where he came from, the pinprick of light he called his home. Above. 

Just layers of clouds, the sun. It moved.

The sun was low in the sky, casting a dusky orange glow over the land. It was dull.

Frank had gone his whole life believing paradise was the land where the sun hung high in the sky and bathed them in a blinding light.

Perhaps, paradise was where the sun set.

~~~

The last Gerard saw of Frank was his bloodied body being dragged out of the throne room as sobs ripped through his throat.

Frank had taken the fall, Frank had insisted to Him that it was all his fault. Frank had tempted Gerards good nature. Gerard was golden, pure, without sin and without fault. Gerard sat in his bed, too soft silk sheets, too bright lights through the window. He understood now what Frank meant all those years. This was not paradise, it never could be. He was a liar, He was a bastard, He was sick and twisted. If He could rip all Gerard had ever loved from his hands. 

His family, his only lover.

Gerard made his way to the window, staring out over the landscape. Sickeningly clean. The trees never swayed, never dipped, never grew red with autumn or wilted with time. The grass never grew, stayed in it’s same mild length.

The flowers stayed in a consistent bloom. 

The clouds hung in the sky, framing the ever present sun. Beaming down.

Oh so bright, too bright. 

Gerard looked down, on Below. The humans, the everchanging, morphing, shifting, chaotic world.

The scales tipped and swayed Below.

The trees withered and died and grew again, the flowers budded before they bloomed. The sun set.

Below, held his mother, his father, his brother. His only lover.

His mother sacrifice everything for him, her wings, her status. 

He wished she hadn’t. He wished she had let him stay Below. With her, with their father and the little brother he never got to meet.

“I will find you. I will tear apart the gates myself. Damn my duty, damn my status, damn Him.”

~~~


	2. Spin Me Like Spiders Silk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Lying, he was very familiar with it. Spinning stories on his tongue like spiders silk, weaving intricate webs. Sometimes he wondered who was the fly?
> 
> Was it the victims of his lies? Or him? To be consumed by the guilt and forever hiding behind his ruse. "

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning for this chapter, frank gets some unwanted advances at a party, it doesn't escalate but i figured i'd warn anyways
> 
> sorry this took so long to come out, i spent forever re-writing it i promise chapter 3 is coming soon.

Frank was very experienced in the concept of sin. It had become a second sense to him, every nerve in his body coiling in displeasure at the thought of breaking the great rules set out for him by his Creator. 

Many think angels sinless beings, completely pure and free from the burden of wrong doing. Frank found out very quickly this was a lie.

Lying, he was very familiar with it. Spinning stories on his tongue like spiders silk, weaving intricate webs. Sometimes he wondered who was the fly?

Was it the victims of his lies? Or him? To be consumed by the guilt and forever hiding behind his ruse. 

He always told himself it was necessary, and it was. If he told anyone about him and Gerard they would be cast down. Now, he couldn’t let anyone know the truth.

~~~

Ray and Mikey were nice, they let him into their apartment and asked him questions and Frank began construction on his careful web. 

He was Frank Iero, a 20 year old sheltered Catholic (He was pretty sure that’s what they called it) boy who ran away from home. He hitch-hiked his way to (Where were they?) New Jersey. He got into a fight with the last car that picked him up and he was dropped off here. 

They bought it, mostly because it wasn’t that much of a lie. He was sheltered, he knew how people lived but he had never experienced most of it. He did, sort of, run away. 

“So your parents didn’t let you do like, anything?” Mikey said, he was curled up in an armchair in the corner of the living room. His nose buried in a cup of coffee. “You never went to parties? Never dated anyone?”

“No. They didn’t let me do anything.” Frank pulled his feet up on the couch, they had given him his own cup of coffee and that had led into the conversation on how he had never had coffee. He understood now why people liked it. It made his hands shake, but it also had a strange soothing quality. 

“So what did you even do?” Ray, his curls hanging in front of his face as he fiddled with the tuning pegs on his guitar. Ray had a lot of those, guitars placed all around the house. Amps practically in every corner. 

“I read a lot, I would write.” Frank took another sip of his coffee, an excuse to stop talking. 

Mikey, suddenly looking very excited rose from his seat.

“Wait wait, dude, did they let you play video games?”  
“No.”

“Oh my god, okay, Ray where’s the copy of Mario Kart? We’re playing right now.”

~~~

Frank spends the next few days learning about lots of things, Mario Kart, Chinese food, what working at a book store is like, that he really favors wearing black over any other color, and that Mikey really really needs to start showering more. 

Friday night he learns about alcohol.

Theoretically, he always knew what it was. Something people drink to get a “buzz”.

He never knew it was this fucking great.

Everything felt loose, swimmy, his limbs were wading through the world like carding through a pool of thick paste. Some girl with black lipstick and pink hair teased to the sky kept handing him cups of something delicious and _strong_.

Every sip tasted like fruit punch and burned his throat on the way down, the fire settling in his belly and a warm fuzzy feeling spreading through his veins.

She was laughing at him, every time he stumbled or slurred his words. He didn’t care. She was nice and soft, and he had an arm around her, she kept saying things, words a mile a minute. He didn’t pick up on any of it. 

There was so much noise, all around him. People talking, music playing over a shitty speaker, Ray was showing off on an acoustic guitar, someone had put on a movie on the living room TV. 

And the smells, stale beer, liquor, body odor, a million different perfumes, colognes, and deodorants mixed together, and a hint of urine. 

It was overwhelming, all consuming, and fuzzied by the alcohol and he loved every second of it.

Far from the stark scenes he was used to, clean marble, fresh linen, quiet all around.

He spent his whole life deprived of sensation and was now bombarded by it from every angle. 

Pink hair was still plastered to his side, she leaned in close to mouth at his neck. 

“I don’t think Mikey is using his room…” She whispered in his ear. Pressing herself against his hip.

He was shocked, stunned. Her mouth was hot on his neck and he shuddered. It was new, too new, too fast. 

_Gerard._

He couldn’t do this, he still had someone. 

“Uh, I’m not sure.”

“Oh come on…”

He tried to detangle himself from her, she kept pressing. Moving a hand to hook into his belt loop. She was quickly pulled away from him by a very angry Mikey.

“He’s obviously uncomfortable, Chels. Go find someone else to hassle for a disappointing two minute fuck.”

Pink Hair (Chels), stalked away, flipping Mikey off in the process. 

All of a sudden, this wasn’t fun anymore. His throat burned, he could feel bile rising. He was going to throw up. 

“Oh shit you look fucking terrible, how much have you had?”

Mikey’s voice sounded far away, but he could feel the hand on his shoulder. Guiding him towards the bathroom. He bent over the toilet and lost about everything in his stomach from the past few hours.

“Alright, let it out. You’re gonna drink some water and go the fuck to bed after this.” 

The moment Frank stood up, he threw up all over the front of his shirt. His head felt heavy, and his stomach turned with every movement he made. His limbs felt like lead, hanging off the sides of his body.

“Jesus Christ you’re a fuckin mess, come on.”

Frank wanted to respond as Mikey dragged him into his room, but his tongue felt thick and heavy in his mouth. Mikey sat him down on the bed and pulled off his shoes, then pulled off the vomit coated shirt.

_Oh fuck._

Mikey rolled him on his side, he saw them. He definitely saw them.

His scars, the massive welts on his shoulder blades. 

Mikey didn’t say anything, just stood there. For what felt like hours, days, years, there was no clock in the room but Frank could hear one ticking. Could feel the questions bubbling in Mikey’s throat. He didn’t ask any of them, just turned and walked to the door. 

“Don’t fucking choke on your puke and die in your sleep okay?”

He shut off the light and closed the door. Frank barely got any sleep.

~~~

The next morning, Mikey sat alone at the kitchen table. Clutching his coffee cup. Ray had taken Frank out to a guitar shop. 

Mikey, had taken the opportunity to call his mother.

“Mom, he had the same scars as me. I could pass off the birth mark as a coincidence but the scars mom.”

“Micheal I told you, it’s a birth defect. He probably had the same one you did.”

“They were fresh scars, Mom. This is too much to pass off. This guy falls out of the sky, a crucifix mark on his neck exactly like the one I have on my arm. And the exact same scars I have on my back but fresh. Whatever the fuck you are hiding from me, I’m tired of it.”

“Mikey please, I’m not hiding anything from you.”

“Yes you are, you always have been. You talk about my brother all the time, why are there no pictures of him? What about the mysterious headaches? I’m tired of the secrets.”

“I just, I can’t tell you. I can’t.”

“I’m your son, you think you’d be honest with me. I’m hanging up. Call me again when you feel like telling me the fucking truth.”


End file.
